


confetti in our hair (finale)

by sternenrotz



Series: broken hearts hurt but they make us strong (queer horror verse) [24]
Category: The Horrors (Band)
Genre: (those two tags paint a picture i don't like), Closure, F/M, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Nonbinary Character, Other, Parenthood, Sexual Content, Trans Character, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 09:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16282430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenrotz/pseuds/sternenrotz
Summary: Josh has never liked happy endings. Or: Joe and Dilys get married.





	confetti in our hair (finale)

**Author's Note:**

> titled after "Kayleigh" by Marillion because I am your dad.
> 
> set in September 2023. the usual: Josh doesn't like labels but uses spivak pronouns, Rhys is a trans woman and her chosen name is Dilys, Joe is a trans man, Fari is agender, she/her, and dropped the S from the end of her name a while ago. Tom is their token cisgender friend.
> 
> most of the kids are only mentioned in passing, but Josh's elder kid, Hollis, is about five and a half in this fic, while eir younger kid, Mavis, is three and a half. Joe and Dilys' daughter, July, is six; their son, Patrick, is two. Josh and Fari's son, Iman, is nearly four, and Fari and Rachel's adopted daughter, Jinan, is five.
> 
> also, this is what Dilys' wedding dress looks like: ([x](https://i.imgur.com/wy6yve7.jpg))

            Josh has never liked happy endings.

            Ey always hated church, too, too many memories of weddings and funeral services sat through as a little girl in cheap polyester dresses and starchy stiff white socks. The air in the nave is so exalted Josh can barely breathe it, somehow vibrating between the stone floor and the arched ceiling despite the awed silence from the audience. Or maybe that only comes from eir binder and the equally stiff three-piece suit.

            The quiet is the worst bit, all those people crowded into one room and yet they don’t dare make a sound, or maybe the worst is that the room seems much too bright. The walls are white, all the flowers are white, and Dilys’ 60s vintage wedding dress is an off-white colour she called _champagne_. The bright sunlight from outside is turned rainbow with the stained-glass windows behind the altar, and Josh is feeling too many feelings at once to focus on any of them but the negatives.

            It was Joe’s mum who insisted on a church ceremony, her one condition so she’d help pay for the celebrations. She’s sitting in the front row of the pews, with Dilys’ parents on one side and one of Joe’s cousins on the other, and she’s already dabbing her eyes with a kerchief. They’re _all_ crying.

            “Lys. Dilys Eileen Somerset Webb.”

            Josh can only see Joe’s back as he begins his vows, shoulders wider than they are in his navy-blue suit, but ey’s sure he’s going to cry, too.

            “I’ve had about ten years to draft up these vows. Probably closer to twenty, to be honest. And I still couldn’t find the words to say what I want to say and sum up how I feel.”

            Josh’s eyes start itching now, but ey’s not going to cry. Dilys said during the rehearsal, _If I see you cry, I’ll cry, and I’m not going to be a snotty blubbery mess in front of everyone._ So ey’s not allowed to cry. Actually, ey can see Dilys’ face perfectly, if a little blurry behind the tulle veil on her little pillbox hat, and her jaw already trembles with it.

            “I have so many things to thank you for,” Joe says. “If it weren’t for you, if we hadn’t met those twenty years ago, I wouldn’t be standing here as the person who I am today. You’ve always been my rock and the reason I had the courage to be myself, and I hope you feel similar about me.”

            Dilys’ hands clasping her bouquet, wildflowers in sunset colours, also start to tremble now.

            Josh can’t keep watching this. Ey looks back over to where all the kids are sat in an orderly line, the girls in matching ruffled orange dresses and Iman and little Patrick in their tiny suits. Next to them, there’s Rachel and Fari, in equally matching black lace dresses, and Rachel’s eyes look watery, too. For a split second, Fari returns Josh’s gaze, her eyes painted with a flamboyant shimmery orange. At least one person here is keeping composure.

            “It would be an honour to share last names with you,” Joe says next, “Like we’ve shared several homes, and the experience of being in a band, and two lovely children so far. And I’d like to put a ring on your finger as proof of that.”

            When he finishes speaking, another silence hangs in the air, an empty gap in time that begs to be filled with applause, maybe, but the congregation stays silent.

            Only a bubbly snort breaks the resin that the moment feels encased in, and with the weird acoustics in the church, Josh’s eyes automatically fly over to the group of children at the front of the pews. But it’s not Patrick, who’s contently watching the ceremony with big brown eyes and clutching at July’s fingers with his chubby toddler hands. It’s not even any of the other kids.

            The snivelly sound comes from Dilys, who’s clutching onto her bouquet much tighter, as if that could stop the shaking that rocks her body. Patrick clearly got his eyes from her, which is so much more apparent now that Dilys’ are swimming in tears that dare not spill out onto her cheeks.

            “Well,” she begins, voice remarkably clear. “Now you’ve made me cry, so you ruined it.”

            From behind, Harry passes her a tissue that she pulled out from who-knows-where. Dilys whispers a hushed “thank you,” and she daintily dabs at her waterline.

            When she decided on a make-up look for the big day, Dilys already insisted that everything be _completely_ waterproof, but Josh still winces a tiny bit. Ey's probably _still_ not allowed to cry.

            With her mascara and eyeliner still intact, Dilys finally says, “Kit.”

            Joe makes a low noise, just loud enough Josh can make it out, that almost sounds like a sob.

            “Joseph Patrick Spurgeon,” Dilys continues. “I've never been in love until I met you. Before we met, I wasn't sure that kind of love was real, and it definitely wasn't for me.”

            She quietly sniffs once more, but this time, she doesn't need to use the tissue. Josh can feel the wetness on the edge of eir own eyes right now, but ey doesn't know whether blinking would make it better or worse. At least ey's sure eir mascara is tear-proof, too.

            “I knew the love from my family and friends, but not love how you made me feel it. And I definitely never felt all three kinds of love at once.”

            The last time Josh cried at a wedding was during Rachel and Fari's reception, for entirely different reasons ey doesn't wish to think back to. Listening to Dilys recite her vows, learned off heart but with a gravity in every word, ey briefly feels transported into some kind of romance movie, but one of the classic ones Fari likes. Everything is, succinctly put, too much.

            “I'm ready to spend the rest of my life with you as my family and my best friend, and as my lover. The only thing I regret, over the last twenty years, is that we waited so long to make it official. But all that was worth it to become your wife.”

            Her eyes tremble, framed with long dark lashes, and even from the distance Josh is sure they've got new tears clinging to them. This time, it's the officiant who breaks the silence.

            “Marriage,” he says, his voice heavy and composed with a great wisdom inside. He's an old man with white hair, the preacher of this church ever since Dilys was a kid attending Sunday service with her parents, apparently.

            There's a million directions that sentence could go into, but Josh doesn't want to hear how it ends. Ey _hates_ church. One more time, ey tunes out all sound and looks over at the congregation, this time at the rows towards the back, where the people's heads blur into little grey and brown dots. That means ey's about to cry again, doesn't it.

            Josh blinks twice or three times, and ey makes eye contact with Fari once more, but ey can't place the expression on her face. Then, ey looks at Fari's hand entwined with Rachel’s, and at all the kids still sat attentively. This time, Mavis waves back at em as soon as she notices, and Josh in turn quirks the corners of eir mouth upward, but it feels like a mere reflex.

            “I present to you the newly married couple of Mr and Mrs Spurgeon-Webb,” the pastor finally says, just when Josh focusses eir attention back onto him. “You may now share your first kiss as husband and wife.”

            The organ music starts up again at the same time that they both step forward, gingerly to avoid crushing the flowers between them, and Joe brushes the veil aside and presses his lips onto Dilys'. Josh doesn't have to see his face to know both of them are, again, close to tears. Ey thinks of Disney movies, and romantic comedies all over again, and ey wipes eir eyes and snotty nose on eir shirt sleeve.

            So much for that.

*

            “Good evening, everyone.” Harry taps the mic twice, and it makes two dissonant pops through the speaker system.

            The reception is held at a posh gastropub that's inside a boat, so her voice reverberates from the polished wooden walls of the hull. Right now, all of the heads scattered around the restaurant turn towards the table where the bridal party is sat, and even though they're not aimed directly at em, Josh still wants to shrink into the upholstery.

            “Before everyone digs into their appetizers, a number of us would like to say a few words. That's our bride and groom themselves, the father of the bride, our best person, Josh, and the maid of honour, which is me.”

            Harry's got something in her hair, the petal of a flower or maybe a piece of confetti. Josh glances down at the vegetarian option on eir plate for a second, some kind of bougie cheese and vegetable tart, before ey looks back up.

            “For the ceremony, I stood on my sister's side, but now I'm going to tell you about my best friend, Joe.” Harry nods over to Joe at the centre of the banquet, and Joe waves into the room in turn. “It's all a bit mixed up and gender neutral like that.

            “The very first time Dilys introduced me to Joe, I felt bad for him.”

            Josh almost wishes ey had something to hold onto, maybe eir big purse to cover emself and fill the space between eir chest and the edge of the table. When they were getting the limo to the restaurant, ey changed from eir uncomfortable groomsman suit into a little black dress, and Dilys' mum gave em her scarf as a modesty curtain so ey wouldn’t expose emself to the entire wedding party. Maybe ey should have held on to that scarf.

            “Twenty years ago, he was this little insecure twink, with one of the worst haircuts I'd ever seen, and he couldn’t dress his way out of a wet sandwich bag. You just had to pity him.”

            Josh looks over to Tom on eir right, then Dilys' brother on Tom's right. At least ey doesn't think anyone is looking at em right now. Tom's got Mavis sitting on his lap right now, her wonky little mouth smeared with cauliflower cheese mush. _Uncle Tom_ , Josh thinks and briefly wants to laugh, but it's a hollow want. Eir hands go to eir tight-clad knees under the table, then up to eir hips to clutch eir own belly. No squeezing eir titties in front of all those people.

            “A couple of months after that, Lys told me that Joe was her boyfriend, and at that time, I felt bad for _her_.”

            Laughter from the crowd, but Josh missed the cue to join in.

            Ey thinks back to the last wedding ey went to, back when Tom's stupid brother got married. Hard to believe that was over four years ago now. Ey looks over at Mavis again, and ey wishes ey at least had eir big purse to hold onto.

            Time for a roll call.

            Tom's sitting next to em on the groom's side, obviously, Mavis on his lap. Hollie is sat at the kids' table, nearest to the bridal party, together with Rachel and Fari and all the other children, except for Patrick, who's sitting with his grandparents, more cauliflower cheese on his chubby cheeks.

            Now ey's missed some of Harry's speech. How ey feels is decidedly tethering on the brink of _too much_ , and ey delicately sips on eir flute of bubbly wine. Stupid posh wedding customs.

            “I remember one incident in particular, after the band got formed,” Harry says. “They were invited to some award show, and for obvious reasons, Dilys and Joe decided they should wear matching outfits. They somehow snuck me onto the guest list, since they were the hot new thing for NME readers and allowed some special favours, so I had to see that too.

            “For whatever reason, one of them thought white shirts and white trousers would be a good look, but it really just made them look like _Clockwork Orange_. What Joe did, in the same room as Jarvis Cocker and Noel Gallagher and all those other music legends, is he spilled red wine onto his white skinny jeans.”

            This time, Josh laughs with the audience at the right time. Still, it feels fake.

            “He had to grab a bottle of white wine and take it to the bathroom with him, and he took off his trousers and rinsed the stains out in the sink, and he dried them off with the hand dryer,” Harry says. “I remember when he skulked off, absolutely mortified, and I thought, _What a bellend._ Lys turned to me and said, _What a bellend_. And right then, I knew that the two of them were made for each other.”

            Josh wants to cry. Ey pinches the material of eir dress, and it feels cheap and stiff and too expensive all at once.

            Under eir breath, ey says to Tom, “I can't do this.”

            Tom quirks a brow.

            “Give me my sprog to hold onto.”

            Tom glances over at the top of Mavis' smooth hair, then back to Josh. Josh wishes ey couldn’t feel the eye contact in the form of goosebumps up eir shoulders, and ey quickly looks away.

            “You're due to speak after Haz is done. It'll be an inconvenience.”

            “I _am_ an inconvenience,” Josh whispers back. Eir throat feels too tight. Then, ey asks, “Mavie? Do you want to sit on my lap instead?”

            Tom says, “After your Ren's done speaking.”

            Josh almost stabs eir tart on accident when ey cuts another piece.

            Harry says, “Maybe in a different universe, if you believe in that sort of thing. Where I'm not gay, or where Joe’s a Josephine.”

            Josh's sat in the wrong place to see her face when she nods over to Isabel at the table, but ey assumes it's a wink.

            “But while we're here, the same way she took care of you twenty years ago, Joe, you go take care of my sister.”

            The crowd claps, and Josh doesn't cry, as much as ey wants to for entirely separate reasons. Eir ribcage feels blown up by whatever emotion is carried in the applause, both as in _inflated_ and in _carried off by a gust of wind_. Like fucking dandelion seeds of all things.

            “Next, I'm going to pass the mic to Josh.”

            That's eir cue to stand up. Now, all eyes in the room actually are on em, on eir face and hair and eir tits in the little black dress. Ey could make a tally on how many of those people had never seen em in a dress before, but ey doesn't really want to. The handle of the microphone feels warm in eir hand, buzzing with electricity, although that's probably only eir nerves.

            “Dilys,” Josh begins, and being surrounded with eir own voice from the speakers feels strange. “What can I tell you about Dilys?”

*

            Later during the dinner, the feeling tips.

            After eir part went over smoothly, after ey sat through the rest of the speeches, they served the main course, some kind of roasted aubergine served with couscous and a bunch of fancy vegetables. Now, ey's helping Mavis spoon fluffy citrus-flavoured mousse into her mouth, and the insides of eir skin and eir lungs itch.

            Around the table, everyone's voices blur into each other in a hushed chatter, but it's somehow worse than the quiet from earlier. Dilys' parents are talking to Joe's mum about the ceremony, Harry and Isabel and the other bridesmaid are talking about whether _they_ should ever get married, and Tom and Huw are talking about something that Josh can't figure out what it is.

            This pudding is too sweet.

            “What'd you think of the food, Mavie?” Josh asks.

            “There was a lot of it,” Mavis says in her little voice. She tries to dig the spoon into the little glass dish again, but her hand shakes, and Josh grabs her by the elbow. “But not enough puddings.”

            Josh laughs. A little, it scares em how big she's gotten so quickly, head up to eir chin and almost too heavy to sit on eir thigh. Hollie grew quickly, too, thanks to the messy gene pool, but that doesn't make it any less scary.

            “But did you like it?”

            “I liked it,” Mavis says in accord. “When is the dancing?”

            Josh's heart feels light and heavy up in eir chest all at once, like it's being kept in place by a vice grip. “Soon,” ey says. “I've got colouring in my bag if you want to do some?”

            Then, ey turns over to Tom and pinches his thigh for attention.

            “Just a second,” Tom interrupts his previous conversation, and he turns his head over to Josh. “What?”

            His eyes are so big, even underneath his furrowed brows. At the same time that Josh realises how _freaky_ that is, ey also supposes it's good that the kids didn't take after him in that regard.

            “I can't do this,” Josh repeats in a whisper. Somehow, saying that out loud makes the feeling worse, or maybe it's how eir voice sounds.

            Also, ey doesn't like that Tom's looking at em so intently in that second. Eir eyes dart around the room, suddenly paranoid again that everyone else is _also_ looking at em. Actually, Fari seems wrapped up in explaining something to Iman and Rachel is more preoccupied with her dessert, and Joe and Dilys are talking to some guests Josh doesn't recognise at a table near the back of the room. Ey doesn't understand how two people can have this many friends, and how they can all fit into a single room. At the very least, none of them are looking at em, either.

            Tom asks, “Do you wanna go to the bathroom?”

            “If you like.”

            Josh lets Tom squeezing eir hand, before ey presses a kiss to Mavis' head through her hair.

            “Mavie?” ey asks. “Do you want to sit with the other kids for a bit?”

            Mavis says, “I wanna do colouring.”

            “You can do colouring at the kids' table.”

            Tom is first to stand up and wind himself out of the booth, and Josh follows, Mavis' little hand holding onto eirs so ey can drop her off with the rest of the children. Absolutely nobody looks at them when ey follows Tom out of the reception room and into the hull of the ship. When they decorated the venue for the wedding, someone taped over the toilet doors with gender neutral signs, but Tom now leads Josh into what's meant to be the men's, the cubicle furthest from the door.

            “You should probably now know that I don’t have a condom,” Tom whispers when Josh leans onto him and moves in for the first kiss.

            Actually, the heels ey's wearing are also stupid, especially since they mean ey's about three inches taller than Tom. Maybe ey should take them off.

            “But I do,” Josh says back, and ey guides Tom's hand into the cup of eir bra so he can fish the tinfoil wrapper out. “Always best to come prepared.”

            Tom laughs and nuzzles his nose into Josh's neck. He's just as sober as Josh is, a champagne flute or two, but his face is toasty warm like the heat of drunkenness. He says, “Take your porn shoes off.”

            “They're not _porn shoes_. Just normal heels.”

            Josh somehow manages to slip out of eir shoes without bending down, albeit Tom sucking on the pulse point at eir neck almost makes em want to keep them on. Next, ey slips a hand into Tom's slacks and then into his pants, to slowly pump his cock to hardness.

            “What's the worst that could happen, really?” ey asks. Then, ey thinks back to the last time ey let Tom nut inside em, during Fred's reception, and continues, “Don't answer that.”

            Tom sticks his thumb into Josh's mouth, and when it comes back out, red lipstick rings its base. He whispers, “I think you might want to shut up.”

            Josh almost feels dizzy and nauseous with the blood that rushes to eir face at the same time that it goes to eir cock. Ey kneels down onto the cool tiles, and ey frees Tom's dick through the button fly. A few teasing licks over the head and up the shaft to take it from a semi to fully hard, before ey shuts emself up, along with all the overwhelming voices in eir head.

            “That's it.”

            When Josh wants to cry this time, it's only from eir gag reflex and Tom's hand at the back of eir head.

*

            It's well past midnight by the time their taxi fleet arrives at the commune. Patrick and Mavis already fell asleep on the drive back, and July has to hold onto Joe's arm to stay upright when they all walk the short way from the street to the house, but they put the rest of the kids to bed easily. Josh presses a kiss to Mavis' forehead when ey tucks her into bed, and kneeling on the carpet in the nursery, ey finally cries.

            Maybe it's the exhaustion, ey thinks about that, or the relief of being alone, or a pint too many as the evening grew later, but ey quickly stops thinking about it and just lets emself cry instead. Mavis smells of kid and of strawberry-cake-scent shampoo, in her tiny onesie with bits of confetti and flowers somehow caught near the top of her head, asleep so peacefully that Josh is afraid ey'll scare her up. Maybe ey should go now, after ey picks the debris from her fringe. Hollie started school a few weeks ago, together with July and Jinan, and thinking about that makes Josh want to cry more, about the passage of time, and that Mavis won't forever be a little kid with flowers in her hair who can sit on eir lap. Thinking that those are things ey thinks about, in some kind of twist, makes em want to cry even more.

            “Ren?”

            Mavis' sleepy voice scares Josh up.

            “Quiet.” Josh goes _shush_. “It's all right.”

            “Don't cry,” Mavis insists, although in her voice, it sounds more like _cwy_. Something else she'll grow out of.

            Josh shakes eir head in the dim blue of the night light. “You don’t want to wake Paddy, do you?”

            “Sorry.” _Sowwy_.

            “But I'm only crying 'cause I'm so happy. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

            Mavis quietly nods, and Josh wonders if she can possibly understand the weird cocktail of emotions ey feels. Probably not, and that's probably for the better.

            “Okay?”

            “Okay,” Mavis says, voice as low as she can manage it. Then, she says, “That was a nice marrying.”

            “A nice wedding,” Josh agrees. “We can talk about it tomorrow if you like.”

            Ey presses another goodnight kiss onto Mavis' cheek, eir lipstick long rubbed off onto the rims of various glasses.

            “Sweet dreams, Babiest Bear. I'll see you tomorrow.”

            In the dim, Mavis' relaxed facial features curl up into a wonky-toothed smile. “Okay,” she whispers.

            Josh closes the door quietly when ey steps into the hallway. Around em, the house lies in silence, not even a strip of light under Joe and Dilys' door at the end of the hallway, but ey isn’t sure ey wants to go to sleep already. Not that _already_ means much when eir phone says it's a quarter past one, though. The floorboards creak under eir feet when ey walks into the dark living room, and from the kitchen ey can hear voices, Joe and Dilys and Isabel, all drunk from fruity cocktails, but Josh chooses to avoid them.

            Instead, ey cracks open the door to the back garden and lets the warm night flow inside. Summer isn’t over quite yet, and when ey steps out, the air smells of mowed grass and wild flowers and chlorine from the pool.

            “Evening.”

            Josh fully expected Fari to sit on the patio bench, and so, ey doesn't jump.

            “Hey,” ey says back.

            The porch light is turned off, but Josh can see the end of Fari's cigarette gleam in the dark. Ey's always shocked by how many stars are visible in the sky here at night, and in their light, ey can see Fari's silhouette as well, still in her black gown from earlier.

            Fari says, “Didn't want to take myself to bed just yet.”

            “No. Me neither.”

            The glazed tiles of the terrace are still warm when Josh goes to sit next to Fari, and ey pulls eir own box of cigarettes from eir bra and lights up.

            That feels good.

            “What did you think of today?” Fari asks next.

            “It was a nice reception,” Josh truthfully says. Ey watches the cherry slowly eat its way down eir fag, the orange ember in contrast with the blue fog that rises from it, and ey adds, “Really stressful and overwhelming, but nice.”

            “Rach really loved it,” Fari says. “I thought it was a bit too big. Too many people. Too ostentatious.” She crosses her legs in the floor-length crepe, so the skirt rides up and Josh can see up to her ankles. She took her shoes off when they were dancing, too. “But I guess if that's what they wanted to make them happy.”

            “Big Disney wedding,” Josh quips.

            The wood of the bench feels scratchy against eir bare shoulders, so ey should probably sand it down sooner or later. Ey looks out at the line of trees at the far end of the garden and the crescent moon behind them, and at the stars reflected in the pool's surface. A few leaves swim in the water, dark spots or black holes.

            “How do you feel about it?” ey asks next. “With you and Dilys?”

            “We talked that out years and years ago.” Fari puffs her cig, and all her rings gleam. She hasn't washed the glittery eye shadow off yet, either. “I'm over it. Happy she's happy, all of that.”

            “That's good.” Josh isn’t sure what other answer ey could have expected.

            “And, like I told every one of her friends who asked me about it, they did ask me to be in the wedding, but I didn't want to wear a suit or one of those gaudy orange dresses.”

            “Of course.”

            “What about you and Tom?”

            “Same, I guess.” Josh swallows the smoke in eir mouth and lets it come back out through eir nose.  “Talked it out.”

            “Good,” Fari echoes.

            “I did shag him in the toilets.”

            “Of course.”

            Josh looks back over at Fari again, and at her hand splayed out between them like a silent invite. When ey's sucked eir fag down to a little glow-worm stub, ey flicks it out toward the pool and covers Fari's hand with eir own.

            Fari says, “Shooting star.”

            Josh looks up at the sky, but ey doesn't see anything. “You're taking the piss.”

            “No.” Fari imitates Josh in finishing her smoke and throws it the same way, and the cherry blinks at them for a few split seconds more before it dies. “Did you see it? Go on, make a wish.”

            Josh wants to laugh. Once more, ey feels that ey's drunk, but in a pleasant, bubbly way this time, and ey reckons Fari probably does, too. Also, ey wants to kiss her, so ey does.

            Again, Josh has never liked happy endings. But when ey squeezes Fari's hand in eir own and looks back up at the sky, maybe ey's got exactly that, and the stars blur before eir eyes again.

            Fari asks, “What did you wish for?”

            Josh says, “A new girlfriend.” Then, ey pecks Fari's cheek and says, “If I tell you now it won't come true, remember?”

**Author's Note:**

> as the title states, this is the final part of the main queer horror verse series. after this, I've got one more side story to post, as well as an epilogue.


End file.
